All is Fine
by moviegeek03
Summary: With 19 year-old Dean away, there's no buffer between Sam and John. Sam is trying to get along with his dad, but bullies at school are making his life hard, especially as he tries to hide it from his family.  But what happens when it all comes to light?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is written for the OhSam comment meme on LJ. The prompt was from the lovely cherry916. Thanks again hun!

All is Fine

_ Hand held him down, pressing him farther into the cold asphalt. Small rocks scraped painfully into his back; an unexpected kick sent them biting further in the skin. _

_ "You really are a freak!"_

_ Tears slid down his face and more taunts fell on his ears. Hits and more kicks pounded down on his sensitive flesh. Blood slowly seeped through the layers of clothes. _

_ It wouldn't end…._

_ Pages from his book cascaded onto him. He could see red splotches on the pages that had landed on top of him. _

_ The tears came harder._

_ The chanting started up again. _

_ "Freak! Freak! Freak!"_

_ "Stop! No!"_

"Please! Stop!"

"Hey, come on Sam!"

The hands grasping at his shoulders were much gentler. The voice, although tinged with panic, soothed rather than taunted. The combination allowed Sam to finally open tear filled eyes and bolt upwards from his bed. The sweat soaked sheets tangled around his legs as he did his best to scramble off the bed, as if the moving away from there would somehow allow him to escape the terror the dream had brought.

"Woah kiddo," Dean called out as he grabbed Sam around the arm to prevent him from tumbling out of the bed. "Slow down, Sammy. You're ok."

Sam closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to calm himself. Seconds later he opened his eyes to see Dean's green orbs swimming with worry. "Thanks," he croaked.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked ignoring the 'thanks' his brother had sent him.

"It was nothing Dean," Sam placated as he maneuvered around his brother's arms to get out of the bed.

"Like hell! You've been tossing and turning all night. Then you start screaming like someone is torturing you! You can't tell me it was nothing."

Sam sighed and grabbed a change of clothes to take to into the bathroom. "It was just a bad dream, Dean."

"Sammy…"

"I promise, and don't call me Sammy Dean. I'm not a baby."

"Whatever….so what was the dream about?"

"Nothing Dean; just drop it!" Sam practically snapped.

"Fine!" Dean threw his hands up in surrender.

Sam slinked past Dean and made it to the door before his brother spoke again. "Clowns or midgets?"

"Jerk," Sam called without even bothering to stop and turn around. He made it to the bathroom and carefully undressed. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as his t-shirt scratched against the cuts and scrapes lining his torso. Ridding himself of his sweat pants was just as bad if not worse. Bending down sent pain through his bruised stomach, and his thighs still had the deep cuts from the rocks. He spared a quick glance in the mirror, sighing at the damage done to his body, before jumping in the shower. He washed as quick as he could manage. He couldn't risk Dean or his Dad walking in and seeing all the bruises.

Toweling himself dry was difficult, but he did so as best he could before dragging on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Sam barely had the hoodie on when Dean barged through the bathroom door.

"Don't you knock?" Sam snapped and tugged down his hoodie hurriedly. The motion sent stabs of pain through his shoulder. _Damn….forgot about those bruises…_

"Sorry, Sam," Dean grinned. "Your ass was takin' too long. What are you, a girl or something?"

Sam glared at him.

"Look," Dean spat out a wad of toothpaste, "I have to get ready too. Caleb will be here any minute."

"Oh…"

Dean looked away from the mirror to look at Sam. The kid seemed pale and had dark smudges under his eyes. But what caught his eye the most was the sad downcast expression marring Sam's face. "What's the matter kiddo?"

"I just forgot you were going with Caleb."

"Sam," Dean sighed, "you've known this was coming for weeks."

"I know," Sam mumbled. "Things have just been…hectic…at school and all." Dean looked skeptically at Sam. "It's not like Dad has ever let you hunt without him anyway. So it's not like this happens every day of the week, Dean."

"Well it should happen more often. I'm 19 dude. Dad's gotten lighten up more now."

"Yeah right," Sam huffed.

"Sammy, promise me you and Dad won't be at each other's throats all weekend while I'm gone?"

Sam knew he couldn't really promise that. The two had been fighting more and more. But then again, Sam also knew he didn't want his Dad to see the bruises and cuts…so maybe he would just end up avoiding him all weekend. "I'll be fine."

"You keep saying that Sam…I'm starting to not…"

"Dean!" John yelled from the front room of their rental house. "Caleb's here! Sam, you gotta get to school!"

"Ok Dad!" Dean called back. "Come on squirt." Dean squat playfully at Sam's back to push his toward the door. But he brushed over some of Sam's tender bruises, causing Sam to bite his lip to stop from voicing his pain.

"I'm coming," Sam breathed out, thankful Dean hadn't noticed how badly that had hurt. He slowly climbed down the stairs. Dean followed behind, but shoved past him once Caleb came into view. Once again Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out as he abused body throbbed.

"Caleb!" Dean rushed over to the young man.

"Hey, man!" Caleb pulled Dean into a one armed hug. He let go of Dean as he saw Sam come into view. "Hey squirt!" Caleb then proceeded to give Sam a hug as well.

"Why does everyone call me that?" Sam half-heartedly whined. He never truly minded when Caleb called him that. He knew it was his way of showing affection. "You do realize I'm not that short any more, right?"

"I do, but you'll always be that to me kiddo." Caleb ruffled Sam's hair.

Sam groaned, but smiled nonetheless.

"Sam! Stop with the attitude!" John yelled from the kitchen.

Sam's smiled faded instantly. "Dad, I wasn't! I was just…"

"Sam," John said as he walked into the room, "I said to stop it and I meant it."

"Whatever," Sam mumbled.

"Sam," John warned again. "Go grab something to eat then get to school."

Sam knew it was pointless to argue anymore. "I'm not hungry."

"Fine," John sighed. "Then get your stuff and get to school." Sam started to move to grab his backpack. "And Sam, make sure you come home right after you end get out. I need you to do some research with me since you lost those books I needed. And you've been coming home later and later each day. I'm tired of it. So stop doing whatever it is you've been doing and come straight home. Got it?"

Sam sighed. It wasn't exactly his fault he had been late every day. Not like he could prevent the assholes at school from making him late…

"Yes sir," he mumbled.

"Sammy," Dean called. "Wanna ride to school? Caleb and I are heading out now. It's on the way."

"Yeah, squirt. There's room," Caleb said gently. He could feel the tension rolling off of Sam.

Sam nodded as he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked outside. He could hear Dean talking to his dad, but couldn't make out the words. Minutes later, Caleb and Dean appeared on the porch with Dean's equipment and duffle bag in hand.

"You ok Sam?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine…."

The rest of the trip to the school was fairly quiet. Sam answered questions posed by Dean and Caleb, but his mind was too preoccupied but what would await him once he got to the building. Caleb's old truck pulled up beside the sidewalk a block away from the school. Busses sat directly in front, blocking him from pulling in there. "You ok with getting out here Sam?"

"Yeah, it's just a block Caleb. I'm used to walking here anyway."

"Ok squirt." Caleb squeezed Sam's shoulder in affection. "I'll see you in a couple of days when we get done."

"Thanks Caleb," Sam smiled up at him.

Dean opened the truck door and climbed out so that Sam could as well. Sam carefully moved out of the middle seat and onto the sidewalk.

"So…" Dean started.

"Yeah…"

"Take care of yourself while I'm gone. I'll be back late Sunday."

Sam nodded. He already knew all that. After a few seconds of silence, Sam stepped towards Dean and threw his arms around his big brother. "Be careful," he said into Dean's leather jacket.

"I will kiddo." Dean squeezed Sam hard. For once Sam didn't mind the pain it sent through his battered body.

The brothers broke apart moments later. With a gentle squeeze to Sam's shoulder, Dean hopped back in the truck and took off towards the hunt with Caleb. Sam watched as they made it to the end of the road and turned out of sight. He sighed and turned with trepidation towards the school. _This is going to be a long day…._

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

School started out fairly decent. Sam avoided the bullies for most of the morning, at least until lunch. He was sitting with a small group of friends, mostly students from one of his honors classes, towards the back of the cafeteria. Even though he had skipped breakfast, he still wasn't very hungry. He sifted his fork through the congealing mashed potatoes.

Suddenly, something hot and squishy came falling down over his head and clumping around his shoulders. He looked up and saw the smirking face of the main bully he'd been facing for the past couple of weeks, Gary. He then noticed that the clumping and squishy material was mashed potatoes, presumably from Gary's tray. Before anything else could happen, a teacher walked over to see what was going on.

"Sam…Gary…is everything ok over here?"

Gary beat Sam to answering. "Of course Mrs. Meadows. I must have tripped over Sam's backpack he had in the floor. I knocked over some of my food onto Sam. Just an accident."

"I see," Mrs. Meadows said, seeming to be less than convinced. "Sam is that true?"

He wanted desperately to finally tell someone what was going on, but Gary glared daggers at Sam over Mrs. Meadows shoulder. Sam just nodded his head before grabbing his backpack and running out of the cafeteria towards the bathroom. He didn't hear any of his teacher's words as he fled. Once safely locked inside one of the bathrooms, he shrugged off his t-shirt and threw it towards the sink. Sam then proceeded to wash out the food from his hair and dry it off as best he could with the paper towels from the dispenser. He slid on his hoodie without bothering to put his spoiled t-shirt back on. He cleaned it off as best he could before throwing it in his bag and making his way towards his next few classes.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

The end of the day brought him to Mrs. Meadows' honors literature class. Even though it was Sam's favorite of the day, he wasn't able to enjoy it at all. His mind kept replaying the cafeteria incident and worrying over what would happen after his class. He robotically turned the pages of the book on his desk until the bell rang and startled him.

"Ok, I'll see you all on Monday," Mrs. Meadows called. "Please remember to finish _Hamlet _over the weekend!" The class began to file out. "Sam! May I speak with you for a moment?"

Sam sighed as he turned back towards her desk. "Yes ma'am?"

"Sam, was what happened this afternoon with Gary an accident, sweetie?"

"He said it was."

"I know he did, but I don't really believe that. I want to know what you have to say?"

Sam glanced at his watch. "Ma'am, not to be rude but I really have to go. I promised my dad I'd be home right after the bell. He needed some help. I'm fine."

"Sam…"

"I'm really sorry, but I have to get home Mrs. Meadows."

"Alright Sam," she replied. "Just…I'm here if you need to talk."

Sam nodded and rushed out of the room. Once he made it to the parking lot, he looked around to see if anyone was still hanging around. There were a few people here and there, but none of the people he was worried about seeing. He breathed a sigh of relief and started walking down the deserted road toward their rental home. As he continued walking, the more residential area surrounding the school turned to the more wooded area that led to their house.

The further from school he walked, the calmer he became. But his sense of peace instantly shattered when he felt something hit him from behind. He stumbled and fell flat on his stomach. His arm twisted painfully underneath him as he tried to catch himself. He barley took notice of the snapping sound it made. His attention was instead drawn to the gathering group of boys now surrounding him.

"Hiya Sam!" Gary said too cheerfully. His friends all smirked and began to form a circle around him. There was only about four in total, but Sam was terrified. They had never tried to get to him anywhere other than around the school.

Gary reached down and yanked Sam's backpack off the hurt teenager's shoulders. They ached with the force by which Gary had removed the bag. "Let's see what you have today shall we?"

Sam tried to remember if he had left any of his books relating to hunting in there by accident. He sagged in relief when it appeared as if nothing in there had caught Gary's attention.

"Left all your freak crap at home today huh? Guess you think you're pretty smart Sam." Gary aimed a kick to Sam's ribcage, causing him to gasp in pain. "Still a freak. Doesn't matter if you have that shit with you or not Sammy-boy."

"But…" Sam tried to say. One of the others quickly shut him up with a punch to the face.

"Sam, we don't appreciate that devil worshipping bullshit around here."

That was the last Sam could hear of the boys taunts. After that, everything blurred into one big ball of pain and humiliation.

Minutes later, out of nowhere, it all stopped. He could finally hear a new voice: his dad's.

"What the hell do you boys think you are doing?"

"Nothing sir."

"This damn well doesn't look like nothing!" One of the boys started to back away to leave. "No you don't! All your asses stay here! The police are already on their way. And I'm not in the mood to chase any of you idiots down but I will if you try it." With that, the boys all stayed firmly in place. John turned his attention to Sam. His anger flared even more at the state of his youngest. "Sammy…"

He knelt down and gently ran his hand over Sam's hair. He felt his son stiffen under his hand and curl into himself. John felt the urge to take his anger out on the boys. However the sounds of sirens stopped him from moving away from his obviously injured son.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

Hours later, John sat beside his son's hospital bed. Sam's arm had been set and put into a cast. A deep purple bruise marred the pale skin of his face. Matching bruises lined his shoulders, back, and stomach. A pristine white bandage wrapped around his knee, hiding the new stitches underneath. The older injuries had been taken care of, along with the new. The discovery of each and every one of them sent fresh anger through John's body.

Sam started to shift a bit in the bed, drawing John out of his thoughts. "Sam….come on….wake up son," he coaxed.

Sam's eyes slowly opened. He blinked against the bright light before finally setting his gaze on his dad's face.

"Hey Sam. How ya feelin'?"

Sam took stock of his body. "Sore," he croaked.

A glass of water was presented to him and he drank greedily. "I bet."

"Can I go home?" Sam looked so lost, making John suddenly aware of how young his son still was.

"Yeah. Doctor said you could once you woke up. You amazingly don't have a head injury. So you don't have to stay. I'll go get your doctor and get your paperwork started."

The paperwork went quickly, and it wasn't long before John was walking around to the side of the Impala to help Sam into the house. Sam tried to get out on his own, but nearly fell. The stitches in his knee prevented him from being able to walk very well. John was there to instantly catch his son and guide him into the house. He carefully placed Sam on the couch before heading to the kitchen to get something to eat for him.

Left alone with his thoughts, Sam continued to replay the night over and over again. John came back in the room and sat a plate with a sandwich and fries in front of him.

"Thanks," Sam muttered. Despite everything, he was finally starting to feel hungry. He began to nibble at the food. About half way through the meal he could feel his dad's eyes on him. He sat his food down and met them with his own. "Um…how did you find me?"

"Your teacher called. Wanted to know if I knew of anything going on with ya. Then she started telling me about some things she'd seen 'round school…she thought some other boys seemed to be bothering you. I headed to school to find you when you didn't show up here. I was…was worried after Mrs. Meadows called…"

"I'm sorry dad," Sam sighed. He shoved the plate away and leaned back farther on the couch.

He felt the couch dip and a calloused hand snake around to cup the back of his neck. "What in the world do you have to be sorry for Sam?"

Sam couldn't face his father…he didn't want to see the disappointment. "I sh-should've been able to stop it myself…"

Sam felt his dad's hand stiffen against his neck, and he was sure the yelling would come soon.

"Sammy, did I ever tell you about my first year of high school?" Sam just shook his head. He wasn't sure where this was all going. "I was like you, really tall and skinny. Except I wasn't as strong as you are…"

"Not strong…"

"Why do you say that son?"

"I couldn't…I couldn't even stop a couple of teenage bullies from laying me out Dad."

"When there is four against one, no one could. I know I couldn't have at your age. I couldn't even fight off one."

"What?" Sam sat up more, ignoring the twinge of pain it caused.

"You heard me son. I couldn't even fight off one asshole of a jock when I was your age. He made me public enemy number one my freshman year because his girl was tutoring me in math."

"Really?"

"Yeah, buddy. So don't you dare say you aren't strong."

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes and John gently wrapped him in a hug. Moments later, John heard Sam's muffled voice trying to speak around the fabric of his shirt. "What Sam?"

Sam moved so that his mouth was away from his dad's chest. "They found my books…the ones on shadow demons and witches. I had accidently left them in my backpack after our hunt a couple weeks ago. They started after that."

"So, that's why you didn't have them when I asked for them the other night?"

"Yeah…they…they tore them apart while the beat me up."

"Sammy," John's voice cracked at Sam's broken tone. "I'm sorry I yelled at you for that. But I want you to promise me something…if that ever happens again, don't be afraid to tell me or your brother."

More tears fell as Sam nodded his head in agreement. John pulled Sam back into his embrace and just held him while he let all his tears that had been building for weeks out.

Sam fell asleep there on the couch with his dad. Knowing that the position would hurt Sam in the long run, John reluctantly gathered up his baby in his arms and carried him to his bed. He carefully placed his precious charge under the covers and turned off the lights. He ran his hand through Sam's hair, smiling as his son turned into the touch.

_I won't ever let things get that far again, Sammy…You're gonna be fine…_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I was amazed by the response this got with the original chapter, so I decided to makes this into a chapter fic. Will probably be about at least 5 or 6 chapters, possibly more…just depends on how it goes! Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts!

Chapter 2

_I won't ever let things get that far again, Sammy…You're gonna be fine…_

The sun had already set by the time Dean walked through the apartment's door, paying attention to the salt line at the bottom. John lay fast asleep on the couch with the TV's muted colors casting a glow on his form. Dean silently made his way towards the bedroom, figuring Sam was probably still wide-awake with a book clutched in his hands. However, the sight upon entering the room was a different image entirely…

"Sammy?" Dean gasped as his eyes fall on his little brother's sleeping form. His gaze settled almost instantly on the pristine white cast; it was practically glowing against the dark bed sheets. Dean's hand shook slightly as it moved to brush the sweaty bangs away from Sam's face, only to reveal deep bruises. Sam mumbled and groaned in his sleep. Dean moved his hand to rub soothing circles around Sam's back, but Sam flinched and shifted at the touch. In doing so, he revealed the ugly purple and yellow marks that littered his most of his back and abdomen.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed under his breath. He wanted nothing more than to continue to search for injuries on Sam's prone form, but a hand cupping the back of his neck stopped him from doing so. He turned quickly to see what was attacking him, only to find his dad smiling sadly at him.

"Hey kiddo," John said softly.

"What the hell happened?" Dean gritted out the words between clenched teeth.

"Dean," John said calmly despite his son's angry tone. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed gently. Dean shook off his dad's hand and backed away, accidentally running into the nightstand and nearly upsetting the lamp. He managed to catch it before it fell to the hardwood floor. Sam shifted slightly in his sleep, but did not awaken.

"Dean," John warned with more force in his whispered voice, "let's go in the other room."

This time Dean didn't put up a fight. He took one last look at his little brother and then followed John out of the room. He remained silent until they reached the living room. "What the hell happened, Dad?"

John sighed as he sank into the couch. Dean remained standing, pacing a little. "I got a call from Sam's teacher yesterday. She asked me if I knew of any trouble Sam had been having at school and…"

"Sam hasn't been having any trouble at school!"

"Dean, calm down son. You're gonna wake your brother up and he doesn't need that." John waited for Dean to nod in acknowledgement before continuing. "Like I was saying, she asked if I knew of Sam having any trouble. Not with his grades or anything Dean, I know the kid is smart…hell he's practically a genius. But that doesn't make him immune to bullies."

"Bullies?" Dean's heart sank at the words.

"Apparently some assholes at school found one of Sam's exorcism books when he dropped his backpack a couple weeks ago. They started picking on him after that. He said they thought he was in some cult or a devil worshipper…who knows what they thought to be honest. Whatever the reason, they started in on him for it. Got pretty bad from what I can tell."

"But…Sam knows how to handle bullies. He's done it tons of times before."

"Yeah, but when there is four against one…the odds aren't with him son."

"Four?"

"Yeah, I saw them…"

"How?"

"After I got off the phone, I noticed Sam still wasn't home yet. It was getting later, so I decided to go see if I could find him. Well…I did. There was about four or five guys surrounding him. He was on the ground. They broke his wrist, bruised his whole body…he's got scrapes and cuts from the rocks he fell on. His knee got slashed somehow…"

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. He stopped his pacing and walked over to where John had the keys to the Impala. He picked them up and made for the door. John rushed to him and grabbed him before he could leave.

"What do you think you are doing Dean?"

"I'm going to find those dicks and take care of this!"

Knowing Dean wouldn't be able to hold his temper now, John decided he needed to drag him outside to yell and rant. He didn't want to wake up Sam and have him hear Dean like this. He shoved Dean gently out the door, sliding the Impala keys back onto the table. The door shut and Dean's voice rose with each step outside of the house.

On the other side of the cracked bedroom door, Sam slid down towards the floor, mindful of the stitches in his knee. Dean's words echoed around in his head. _Sam knows how to take care of bullies._ That had been bugging Sam for a while now. He has always been able to handle himself. But not this time…

_Four against one…the odds aren't with him._

_ I'm going to find those dicks and take care of this!_

Sam slammed his good arm against the door in frustration. He didn't want anyone else to have to take care of things for him! But apparently he was too weak to handle it himself. Tears burned against the back of his eyes and his body felt weighed down. He could still hear Dean outside, yelling and cursing the guys who hurt him. With a sigh, Sam pulled himself off the floor. His knee flared with pain, threatening to send him back to the floor. He managed to drag himself to the bed nonetheless, but didn't see the fresh blood leaking through the broken stitch…

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

The sun shined through the thin curtains and fell down onto Sam's eyes. As much as he tried, the bright intrusion could not be ignored. He moaned and uncurled from the blanket to sit up. Pain pulsed through his body, bringing all the events from Friday crashing down on him.

"Hey, Sammy, I've gotcha kiddo." Dean's arms wrapped around Sam as he rode out the pain.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled. "I'm ok now. Just moved too quickly." Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "How was the hunt?"

Dean didn't much care for the change in subject, but he went along with it nonetheless. "Good. It was pretty simple. That's why I managed to get back as early as I did."

"Caleb around?"

"Nah…he wanted to start moving towards another hunt. He dropped me off and left without coming in last night. It was pretty late and he didn't want to wake you and Dad up."

"Oh, ok…" Sam paused. "So…um…I guess Dad told you about what happened on Friday…"

"Yeah, I kinda saw the cast and bruises when I came in last night. He explained everything."

"Sorry I freaked you out," Sam practically whispered.

"Hey," Dean cupped the back of Sam's neck, squeezing gently and comfortingly. "You did nothing wrong. You understand?"

Sam nodded, even though he still felt as if there should have been something he could have done to prevent it all from escalading the way it had.

"You ok to get yourself up and dressed?"

"Yeah," Sam huffed.

"I didn't mean it like that…just…you know…"

"I know Dean," he sighed. "But I'm fine. Sore…but I'll take same pills with breakfast."

"Ok." With that, Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder and exited the bedroom to go start breakfast.

Sam ran his hand through his greasy hair before slowly climbing off the bed. His bruised torso protested slightly, but his knee was the worst. He quickly grabbed a change of clothes, mainly sweats and a t-shirt. He then somehow managed to limp out and towards the bathroom across the hall. He sank down onto the closed toilet, stretching his leg out in front of him. He eased his sweat pants off, sucking in a breath as the material went over his knee. The bandage remained wrapped around the injury, but it was no longer the stark white from the night before. Blood had escaped from a broken stitch and marred the gauze. Sam checked the wound, finding the source of the blood and cursing. He knew there wasn't anything he could do to stitch the wound back up himself, not since the majority of the stitches were still holding. Instead he decided to let it be and showered quickly, minding his cast the entire time.

Once out, he grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink and wrapped his knee with a fresh bandage. He discarded the old one deep in the trash, hoping it would be buried enough to prevent his dad or Dean from noticing. He didn't need them worrying any more over him than necessary. He had already caused enough problems…

The clean sweats felt nice against his sore skin, and he finally felt like he was capable of making his way to the kitchen to face his family. Both men were already sitting at the table with plates piled with eggs and pancakes set in front of them. A third plate sat in Sam's empty chair, so he slowly made his way to it, thankful no one had seen him enter. The older hunters looked up in shock to see Sam hobbling into the room unaided.

"Sam…how are you this morning?" John asked. He tried not to sound shaky or worried. Sam hadn't been able to move around much Friday night or yesterday at all. John was beginning to think that his injuries were worse than the doctors had originally told them.

"Fine, sir," Sam muttered as he grasped his fork to pick at his food. He really was hungry…finally. He hadn't eaten much in weeks with everything that had been going on with the bullies. But he still didn't feel much like eating. His stomach growled as the smell of the pancakes hit him, so he decided to actually try to eat this time.

"That's good, Sammy." John wasn't completely convinced, but he vowed to just keep a cautious eye on his youngest.

Dean easily picked up on the unease in John's voice, so he quickly decided to change subject. "Hey, Sam….you want to crash on the couch with me? Maybe watch some movies?

"We don't have any Dean…"

"I know, but I was going to do a quick run into town for a few groceries. I'll pick something up for ya from the video store."

"You don't have to Dean," Sam said. But Dean could hear the hopeful tone underneath all the despair in his brother's soft voice.

"I know," he shrugged, knowing Sam didn't want a big scene made over him at the moment. So instead, Dean got up from the table, ruffling his brother's hair carefully as he put his plate in the sink. "I'm gonna take the Impala Dad. You need anything else besides the usual?"

"Nah…I'm good."

"How 'bout you Sam?"

Sam shook his head, even though he could probably use some extra first aid equipment for his knee.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

By the time the sun started to set, Sam was passed out on the couch. His head lay pillowed against Dean's thighs. The credits to _Return of the Jedi_ droned on in the background. Dean smiled as he remembered the look on Sam's face when he had handed over the saran wrapped case. For the first time in a long time, Sam smiled wide enough for his dimples to show. Dean knew Sam loved the old _Star Wars _series; they had watched them every time the movie networks on TV aired them. The second he saw the boxed set with all three lying on the shelf, he knew he had to get it for Sam.

Dean was startled out of his thoughts as boots scuffed against the wood floor. He looked up to see his dad smile down at him and Sam. "Kid finally conk out?"

"Yeah…somewhere between the Ewoks and Luke surrendering to Vader."

John huffed a laugh, but kept quiet to allow his injured son the rest he desperately needed. He sat down in the chair across from the couch and watched his boys for a few minutes.

"Something on your mind Dad?"

John sighed. "Yeah…guess there is Dean. Bobby called…said there was a hunt a couple hours from here. Seems like a simple salt and burn out by an old farmhouse. He said he'd take it if we need him to, but he's swamped at the salvage yard. He's got work on the cars and a bunch of hunters are depending on him for some research. He doesn't think he can make it out there."

"But…"

"When do you want to leave Dad?" Sam's sleepy voice rang out from beside Dean.

"Sam-" Dean started.

"It's ok…I'm fine guys. Really…I'll be ok to go."

"I'm only taking this if you are sure Sam," John replied. Sam nodded his head. "Ok, I'll call Bobby and let him know. We'll leave on Thursday, after Sam gets finished with school. That is your last day right? You'll be on summer vacation after that?"

"Yeah," Sam answered miserably. He really was hoping to just pack up and leave…not have to worry about going back there.

"You'll be alright at school Sammy," Dean said, picking up on Sam's worries. "Don't worry so much kiddo."

Despite Dean's soothing words, he couldn't help but feel panic well up at the idea of possibly facing those guys again. Fresh shame washed over him. _I can handle demons, ghosts, and vampires but I can't handle a couple assholes at school…_

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

The rest of the week was not exactly what Sam had expected. He hadn't considered that the bullies would all be suspended and some still in jail. He hadn't considered that the news would spread, and other students and teachers would send him sympathetic looks periodically. More importantly, he hadn't considered that the simple broken stitch on his knee would cause him so much trouble.

He had managed to hide the worsening injury from everyone, despite the limped walk and excess bandages in the bathroom's trash bin, which now had a yellowish tinge against the white. Nothing he did seemed to alleviate the problem. At fifteen, it wasn't like he had never cleaned and cared for wounds. It came with the family business. Nevertheless he was beginning to think that this was something out of his range of expertise…not that he would let anyone else know that though. Both Dean and his dad had been hovering over him if he so much as gasped from a bruise when moving too quickly. He appreciated the concern, however it made him feel even more awful about everything.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief as the final bell rang. He collected his backpack from the floor near his desk before starting to head out. Mrs. Meadows smiled at him one last time and handed him some of his final writing assignments back. "Have a great summer Sam. I'll definitely miss having you in my class next year. Good luck at your new school though dear."

"Thank you ma'am," Sam smiled back. Even though he had hated this school, he had really enjoyed her challenging class. With that, Sam slowly made his way through the crowded halls to the parking lot. He instantly spotted the Impala and maneuvered his way towards it. He climbed in the backseat, throwing quick greetings to John and Dean in the front.

"You have everything Sam?" John asked as he pulled out of the school.

"Yeah, I grabbed everything. Dean, did you pick up my stuff from the bedroom before you left?"

"Yes…I didn't leave any of your things behind. I know how to pack you know…"

"Yeah but there was that one time in Akron where you-"

"One time…I forgot one book one time. And I replaced it for you the next day if I remember right bitch.

"Jerk…but yeah, you did."

"Boys," John said with amusement in his voice. "Sam, why don't you get some rest? You look exhausted. It should take us a couple of hours to get to the farmhouse."

"So what exactly are we hunting?" Sam asked. He was exhausted, and achy, but he did want to be prepared nonetheless.

Knowing his youngest wouldn't rest until he went over everything, John launched into a quick briefing. "We have a formerly abandoned farmhouse with an old barn out to the side. A family just bought the land and wants to remodel the buildings. But when they started working on it, they ran into some problems. The family's kids were clearing out some stuff from around the property; weird accidents kept happening. Then, a couple of nights later, the mom heard some noises out by the barn. She went to see what was causin' it and swears she saw a figure moving around. She didn't get a good look before whatever it was knocked her out. Her husband knows Bobby and a little about what we do. So he called Bobby. Nothing too serious has happened, but they want it dealt with. The property extends into the surrounding woods. They think there must be an old cemetery up that way…one the previous owners used for their families or something."

"We know who the ghost is?" Dean asked.

"Bobby did some research into it. He thinks it is Miranda Allen. She is the only one to have died tragically on the property; she died while playing with her younger brother. Apparently they were running around the barn where the horses were kept. The younger brother accidentally opened some of the gates and the horses stampeded to get out. She was trampled to death."

"Sounds like she's our ghost," Sam mumbled tiredly before drifting off to sleep with his head leaning against the window.

Hours later, the family pulled onto a narrow muddy road. Dean shook Sam awake as they neared the edge of the property. "What…"

"We're here Sammy," Dean replied, a little concerned with the sluggish movements of his brother. "You feelin' ok?"

"I'm fine," Sam instantly answered. In truth, he really wasn't. He felt awful, but knew he was needed for this hunt. "Really," he added for emphasis as he opened the car door. He swayed as his bad leg hit the dirt, but he managed to stay upright.

"Ok boys," John called as he moved to the back of the Impala. "We're gonna spilt up to search for the cemetery. I'm gonna head up this way." John pointed up towards the woods behind the barn. "I want you boys to take the other side of the woods." The woods really split off into three different directions, but he didn't want to split the boys up.

"Dad, I'll be fine. I can take the left and let Dean take the right. It will be a lot quicker and you know it. We don't have that much sunlight left and you said it yourself, we can do this in the daylight with it being so far out."

"Sam I don't like-" Dean started.

"I think I can handle looking for a damn cemetery Dean," Sam snapped. He couldn't help it. He was tired of feeling ashamed and that he was the weakest link in their unit.

"No one said you couldn't," John sternly interrupted. "I just didn't want you to have to by yourself. You're still healing and I don't want you diggin up the grave on your own."

"I won't," Sam sighed. "I'll radio you guys if I find it."

"Fine, Sam," John relented. He then handed out the rock salt filled shotguns and two-way radios. Then, with a few mumbled words, the three of them each took off in a separate direction, Dean fuming at the idea of Sam being alone.

Sam felt relief at being on his own, but it was short lived. The hillside leading into the woods was rocky and muddy. He slipped and put extra pressure on his hurt knee. Sweat started forming on his forehead, soaking his long hair. The more he walked, the sicker he felt. It was obvious something was wrong, but he couldn't let his family down. He had to keep going…

Later, Sam didn't know how long he had been walking but it felt like hours, he came upon a small clearing. He was thankful that there were no longer bushes and branches to scratch at his achy body. He looked around, his eyes settling on gated portion of the clearing. The metal of the fence had long rusted and weeds grew up over the headstones that lied on the other side. Sam's breathing was heavy, but he managed to grab his two-way radio to rattle off his success to his father and brother. He clipped it back on his belt before nearing the gate.

His steps were merely shuffled attempts at walking, and he limped awfully. His boot caught on a forgotten tree root, and he went down hard, falling on his bad knee. "Gah," he gasped. The pain wracked his leg and seemed to spread through his whole body, stealing his breath and sending spots in front of his eyes. Through the pain filled haze, he felt the air suddenly grow cold. Then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry this took long! No real excuse other than this section was a little harder for me to hammer out. I apologize and hope this was worth the wait a bit at least

Chapter 3

_Through the pain filled haze, he felt the air suddenly grow cold. Then everything went black._

The cold air enveloped his aching body and the wind swept through his sweat-coated hair. Blood seeped through his jeans and smeared the dirt-covered ground. He shivered and began to stir as the figure moved closer.

"Gah," Sam moaned as an icy hand gripped his shoulder, bringing him fully into conscious. His body began to be lifted off the ground by whomever the arctic touch belonged to. Sam finally pried his eyes open, coming face to face with a grayish looking young girl. He knew at first glance that it had to be their ghost.

"What do you think you are doing all the way out here little boy?" she cooed menacingly.

Sam gulped but refrained from answering, knowing it would only anger her more.

"Quiet I see? Well…guess I could always borrow your little toy and call your friends. Sure they'd love to play with me if you won't," Mirada said as she looked down at Sam's forgotten two-way radio lying near the rusting fence.

"No!" Sam exclaimed with panic. "Leave them out of this…just me…not my family!"

"Family huh?" Miranda questioned overly sweetly. "Mommy and daddy huh? Used to have those too you know…"

"Just Dad…and brother…" The answer was second nature but he regretted it as Miranda's grip tightened around his casted arm.

"Brother? So…you are a brother…a little brother too I bet. You look like one…I should know! I had a little brother too! I should just end you now and save your big brother all the pain!"

"But…I…no," Sam stammered. The pain coursing through his abused body was not helping him to think of a way out of the situation.

"Oh, but yes," Miranda smiled as she flung Sam backwards and into the fence's gate. The rusted metal gave way under Sam's weight and he toppled into the graveyard, landing awkwardly on his already broken arm. The cast helped some with the impact, but the limb flared with pain. His knee seemed to be bleeding heavier than before. Altogether, Sam knew he needed help.

Miranda appeared before him once more. "Don't you see?" She grabbed Sam around his throat, squeezing hard. "You know its true…baby brothers only hurt their older siblings. Never fails," she spat through gritted teeth.

Sam could feel his lungs growing desperate for oxygen, and he tried to fight back. It was pointless. Miranda was pissed off at her little brother for causing her death, and she seemed hell bent on taking it out on Sam.

"Please," he rasped around her tight hold. "I've never…I'd never do anything to my brother…please…I…"

"That's what they all say! Jake always acted like a sweetheart in front of out parents…but on our own…he let me die. He caused my death! And if I let you, you'll cause your brother's!" She pulled Sam off the ground and up into the air. Sam's lanky body hung limply in her grasp momentarily before she sent him sailing into the bushes and debris near the side of the cemetery. Sam's body fell with a sickening crunch as pain spiked all over. His cast cracked from the force of his descent, and he felt his shoulder scrape against the jagged rocks and other debris. The worse of the torture came in the form of a jagged branch piercing into his side.

He wanted to scream, but it would have required too much effort. His brain couldn't handle more than the white-hot throbbing coursing through him. He didn't even hear the static of the two-way radio as Dean tried to get a hold of him. His body and mind just couldn't deal, which left him passing out against the rocks and brush as Miranda smiled at her work.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

"Damn it Sam! Pick up already! I know you're there! There is no way in hell you're diggin' up that grave by yourself! So stop screwing around and answer me!"

Dean waited a few beats, only to receive absolute silence from Sam's end. He cursed as he trekked further into the woods and towards where he assumed Sam was. Granted, everything would be easier for him if his brother would answer the damn two-way radio! Dean sighed and gently pushed aside some low-lying tree branches. He had had enough of the menacing branches scratching at his face. The entire hunt was starting to feel like a bust. Dean had gone the wrong way…Sam had found the grave alone…there was no way of knowing if Miranda had shown up…

_Yeah, this hunt was definitely shaping up to be awful. _

Dean pulled out his two-way radio once more and attempted to reach Sam once again. He listened to the static, not noticing the tree roots in his path until his boot caught on one. He stumbled, dropping his radio in the process. He cursed, growing more pissed at the situation. He was remembering with every step and stumble how much he hated the woods. All he wanted was to find Sam, burn the bones, and get the hell outta this place.

A crashing noise resounded through the trees, bring Dean out of his fuming thoughts. "What the hell," he whispered to himself. He sped up his pace, ignoring the branches and twigs that nipped at his body. He ran through, only stopping as he came to the edge of the tree line. He skidded next to a tree so that he could get a look at what was happening. The clearing appeared to be the cemetery, but he couldn't see Sam anywhere out in the open.

Suddenly, a figure moved off to the side of Dean's line of vision. It laughed and started moving back towards the edge of the cemetery's fence line. It flickered and morphed with each step, making Dean instantly realize the figure had to be their ghost. Panic flared through Dean as he became more and more aware that he couldn't see Sam.

Miranda's voice broke through Dean's mind. "No more words from the little brother?"

The words set Dean on alert, and he tried to find Sam in the overgrown brush Miranda was advancing on with each second. He bent down in the dirt so that he could crawl forward some.

He could see Miranda advance on Sam; at least Dean was assuming it was Sam in the brush. A pain filled moan emanated from the area followed by Miranda's sickly sweet voice. "Aww…did I wake you?" She moved quickly, and Dean could not see what exactly she was doing. But whatever it was only caused Sam to moan and shout his protests weakly.

After a few seconds of listening to his brother's distress, Dean couldn't handle sitting and waiting for his chance. Instead, he jumped out of the clearing holding his shotgun high. "Get away from him now!"

Miranda turned towards the voice, taking in the sight of Dean with the gun. Her face morphed into a smile, despite the sight of Dean's death grip on his shotgun. "Aww…how sweet! You must be the big brother…you really should be thanking me for this…"

Before she could cause further harm to Sam, Dean fired off a salt round. She flickered away, causing Sam to drop back to the ground with a grunt. Dean hadn't even known she was holding Sam up.

"Sam!" Dean rushed forward and dropped down beside Sam. His jeans dug deep into the dirt, but all he noticed was the pale tint to Sam's skin and the blood soaking through his clothes. "Sammy," he whispered. He ran his hand over Sam's bruised cheek. Sam whimpered under the soft touch, not hearing his brother's voice. After a few moments, all of which Dean spent sending calming words Sam's way, Sam's pain addled mind finally recognized Dean's caring voice.

"D'n?"

"Yea, kiddo…just me right now."

"Wh'r…"

"Fired salt at her. She'll be back so we need to get you outta here bud. I'm gonna lift you up. Can you tell me where you hurt the most?"

Sam gulped and nodded his head. "Head's sore…doesn't feel like a concussion though." Sam paused as he catalogued his injuries. "My cast cracked…not sure if it hurt my arm more. Scraped my shoulder." Tears started to build in his eyes. "But…knee…and…side are the worst."

Dean nodded and gently turned Sam to get a better view of his side. Blood soaked his t-shirt and started to run down into his jeans. Dean's eyes filled with worry at the sight but it only became worse as he took in the piece of the branch embedded into Sam's side.

Sam gasped as Dean moved the ruined shirt up to take a better look. "I know Sam…just hold on for me bud." Dean cursed inwardly at the reddened and bruised skin that continued to leak blood from around the jagged branch. He pulled the shirt back down and glided his hand down to Sam's injured knee. Dean hadn't seen the awful wound from before, only heard of it from his dad. But seeing it now definitely had Dean wanting to go hunt down everyone who had caused his brother this hurt. "Sammy…"

"It got worse," Sam mumbled miserably. Dean ran his hand over the very angry and red skin. "My…one of the stitches snapped. So it…it got infected…"

"Sam, why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you clean it out better."

Sam didn't say anything; he just looked up at Dean with desperation written all over his face. Dean didn't need a verbal answer to know what was going on with his little brother. He had known Sam was feeling low after everything with the bullies…

"Ok, don't worry about it kiddo. Let's just get you outta here and back to Dad alright? Let me do all the work…just need you to wrap your arms around my neck." Sam did as he was instructed. "There you go. Now just hang on." Dean positioned one arm under Sam's legs while the other supported Sam's upper body. His baby brother hissed as he was moved. The small branch remained stuck to his side since Dean was afraid removing it would only cause further damage.

Dean smiled slightly as Sam settled in his arms and laid his aching head against Dean's broad chest. The shotgun was forgotten as Dean's sole focus remained on helping his brother. He took a few steps away from the brush pile that was now coated with Sam's blood. The brothers were about to make it out of the clearing when the air chilled once again and a figure flickered to life in front of them.

"Hand him over to me…I'm doing you a favor you know."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean spat.

"Let me handle your brother! I'll be saving you! You'll see!"

"Saving me?" Despite his confusion at the ghost's words, Dean tightened his grip around Sam's trembling body.

"Yes! Little brother will only get you hurt! Look where mine got me!" Miranda held her arms out to the side, putting her flickering figure on display. "Yours will only do the same to you if you aren't careful…"

"I wouldn't hurt Dean," Sam protested weakly from where he was half hidden against Dean's chest.

"You don't-"

"Stop!" Dean yelled at Miranda. "Listen, I'm not handing over Sam to you! He's my brother, and he isn't going to hurt me!"

"You want to think that! But-"

"I know what happened to you Miranda," Dean said more calmly. He was running out of options and it seemed as if Sam's condition was worsening with each moment spent arguing with the ghost. "You died because of an accident…"

"An _accident_ my so called little brother caused!"

"But it was still an accident," Dean countered. "Do you really think he'd do that to you on purpose?"

"Yes! Jake…well…he didn't care about me! He wanted…I don't know! He wanted our parents to himself! They always cared about him more anyway!"

"Miranda…I don't think he did it to you on purpose. I read the reports. He was sitting on the gate and he slipped. He opened it when he tried to catch himself. It _was _an accident."

"No," she said, shaking her head. Wind started to whip around the small clearing and the air grew colder. "He never cared! They never do!"

"That not true!"

"They just pretend…try to gain your parent's approval that way!"

"Most of the time, it is just me and my brother…always been that way. Our dad isn't around too much of the time. Sam still cares about me then. He can be a pain in the ass, but at the end of the day I know he still loves me."

"No! Jake always fought with me! He..he always…"

"Sam and I fight too. Hell, we've come to blows over stupid crap that I can't even remember. And he can bug the hell outta me. Especially when he was little, like Jake was. He always wanted to follow me around. Bet Jake did that to you too huh?"

"All the time," Miranda admitted somberly.

Dean smiled slightly. "Yeah, little brothers are good for that. I remember this one time…I was going out to see this girl. I was probably about 12…so that would have made Sam 8. He had just found out about ghosts and all the other stuff that goes bump in the night. He didn't say anything, but I could tell he didn't want to be home alone. Our dad was working, but he said it was ok for me to go out and leave Sam for a few hours. I left and met up with the girl…took her skating or something. I can't remember…but I do remember that was freezing outside and Sam had decided he wasn't going to stay by himself. He snuck out and followed me. He didn't want to get caught, so he stayed close but hid out from me. He didn't realize that he was standing on the section of the ice where people weren't supposed to skate."

Miranda remained silent, not arguing or interrupting. She listened intensely at Dean's story.

"Well," Dean continued, "he took a step, he was trying to find me in the crowd again. His sneaker slipped on the ice and he went down hard. It was enough to crack the thinner ice and he went in the lake. He was lucky that a bunch of people heard him and ran to him. He had grabbed at the ice enough to keep his head up at least. The girl and I ran over to see if they needed help. I saw it was Sam and…" Dean felt tears sting the back of his eyes at the memory. "I thought he was gonna die. But they got him out and I grabbed him and didn't want to let him go, even when the paramedics got there." Dean shifted Sam gently in his arms. "He had cut his arm up on the ice and was freezing. They helped him out at a hospital and our dad took us back to the apartment a couple hours later."

"You didn't get hurt?"

"No, just Sammy did."

"Weren't you angry? He had tried to break up your date…" Miranda's words no long bore the powerful wrath from earlier.

"I was pissed! But not cause he was messing up my date. He didn't listen to me and he got hurt. But I was more relieved that he was ok. I mean…hell…I didn't even bitch when his freezing ass asked to sleep with me that night. He was sick and scared…and all he wanted was to be near me…_me_. Don't you remember what that was like? To have someone that devoted and loving? You have to…"

Dean could've sworn that tears welled up in Miranda's eyes at his pleading. The wind died down and the air gradually warmed around the distraught brothers. Miranda didn't look as gray and transparent as she had only moments ago.

"It was an accident…"

Dean heard a slight rustle off to the side. His eyes flickered there for a second, spotting his father's worried face. He tried to present an air of calm in his glance; Dean didn't want to show how terrified he was to John. After a beat he focused back on Miranda, who now seemed to have a warm glow to her.

"H-he didn't mean to…I had…had shown him how to climb the gates. He saw me and wanted to sit up there too. He was too little…he couldn't hold himself up and he fell. I tried to grab him, so I climbed down. But he had already tried to-to catch himself. He grabbed the latch and…"

Miranda stopped and looked Dean in the eyes. She moved closer to them, gazing at Sam's hurting form still curled against Dean's chest.

"I'm so sorry Sam," the spirit gasped, finally realizing what she had done. She reached forward and ghosted her shaking hand across Sam's forehead. "I didn't realize…I had forgotten…"

Sam nodded in understanding, relieved that Dean had broken through to the ailing girl.

Miranda's gaze fell once more on Dean. "Thank you," she whispered before looking up towards the sky. A light slowly enveloped her form, and she was gone an instant later, leaving Dean blinking at the spot where she had just stood.

"Dean!" His father's voice and rushed steps brought Dean out of his shock.

"She's gone," he whispered to his dad. "I didn't know that would work. I j-just wanted…"

"Shh…I know son. It's okay. You did good, kiddo." John's arm went around Dean's back and gently hugged his son. "I think she moved on buddy. You did good. Now, let me see Sammy, Dean."

Dean carefully unfurled his arms so that his dad could assess Sam. Sam's eyes glanced dazedly at his father, reflected the pain and exhaustion he was feeling in the orbs. "D-dad?"

"Hey Sammy…it's gonna be ok. We're gonna get you outta here." John nearly choked on the words when he saw the small branch stuck in his baby's side. Not trusting himself to talk, he nudged Dean gently to allow him to carry Sam. Dean's arms sagged at his side once Sam was gone. His brother whimpered at the movement, but soon settled against his dad's chest.

Dean glanced down at the spot Sam had been, seeing the blood and tears that had soaked through his shirt. His own tears began to fall as his mind stuck on the fact that the blood was not his own…how the red stain now marring his once green and blue button was not from his own injuries.

Gulping back his emotions, Dean ignored all the blood as best he could, remembering Sam needed him to be strong. He fell into line behind his dad, trying not to notice the red trail coating the forest's ground as his dad carried Sam.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews on this! I always appreciate them and am still amazed at the response this story has gotten :D

Chapter 4

_Gulping back his emotions, Dean ignored all the blood as best he could, remembering Sam needed him to be strong. He fell into line behind his dad, trying not to notice the red trail coating the forest's ground as his dad carried Sam. _

The silence that hung heavily in the Impala was only interrupted by the soft whimpers and moans from the backseat. John did his best to ignore them and keep his mind on the road in front of them, but it was becoming harder and harder with each mile. Dean was having trouble ignoring his baby's brother's pain as well. He gave up and began to whisper comforts to Sam, who remained curled up against him.

"Shhh…we're almost there Sammy. You're ok bud. Just hang on kiddo." Sam's pain filled groans quieted some, but his grip on Dean's shirt never let up. Once Dean noticed Sam was calmer, he looked up towards his dad in the front seat. "You are going to a hospital…right Dad?"

"Of course I am Dean," John said, a little hurt and angered at the implication that he wasn't. "I know Sammy's too bad off for us to take care of him. Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just…I know you hate trying to come up with a story, especially with injuries like this. I mean, he has bruises on his neck where he was strangled Dad. H-how do we…I don't want…what if they…"

"Dean, son, don't worry about that."

"But…"

"Son, when I talked to the family who own the property, the wife mentioned that she worked at the local hospital. As soon as I get on the main road, I'm gonna call her from the cell phone and make sure she's there to help Sammy."

Dean nodded, relieved that he didn't have to worry about doctors thinking him or his dad had caused the injuries. With that part of his mind at peace, he turned his attention back to his hurting brother. Sam was still loosing a lot of blood. His body was limp with pain and exhaustion, pale and shaking in Dean's grasp.

Time passed, and while it felt like ages to the men in the car even though they had truly only been driving the twenty minutes it took to get back into town. John pulled out his phone and placed a call to the wife. Dr. Aldridge, as Dean learned was her name, was quickly filled in on the events that had occurred at her new home. She promised John that she would meet them at the ER and have her staff at ready for his son.

After the phone call ended, the rest of the drive to the hospital went off without a hitch. It wasn't long before John was pulling as close to the door as possible, seeing nurses and orderlies shuffle towards the car. He threw the Impala into park and clambered out to help Dean with Sam. After a few seconds, the older Winchesters stood with bloody and dirty clothes as Sam was whisked through the corridors to an exam room by Dr. Aldridge.

Once John broke free of his shock, he guided Dean towards a chair before going out to park the Impala and grab a quick change of clothes. He hurried back, frowning when Dean hadn't so much as moved a muscle since slouching forward and putting his head in his hands after John got him in the seat.

John sighed before plopping down in the seat next to Dean. "Son," he said calmly, cupping the back of Dean's neck, "let's go change into clean clothes. They'll be a bit with Sammy. Come on." John gently patted the back of Dean's neck and prodded him to move from the seat. But Dean didn't budge. He remained sitting on the edge of the hard plastic with his head down in his hands. "Buddy, come on…"

Dean mumbled something into his hands, but John couldn't make it out and had to ask for him to repeat himself. "I…I said I should've noticed sooner."

"What are you talking about Dean? You couldn't have known the ghost had gotten to him. Even if you thought it did, you got there as fast as you could."

"Not that, Dad," Dean answered somberly.

"I don't understand…"

"His knee…it is infected and he didn't tell us."

"Dean…"

"I should've noticed. I thought…I thought he just needed some space after everything you know? I didn't want him to think I was babying him or anything because of what those assholes did to him. But I should've…"

"Dean, you can't do this to yourself. Things happen. Sam probably thought he could handle things on his own. Hell, he probably felt he needed to prove to us that he could-"

"That's my point, Dad! I should've known something was wrong and that he didn't want to bring it up!"

"That's enough," John firmly said. His voice had a hard edge to it, but it was nowhere near as loud as Dean's. Nonetheless, it had Dean quieting down and staring desperately up at his father. John's heart broke even more at the tears that shined in his eldest's eyes. The sight had him pulling Dean towards him and whispering comforting words towards him. He could feel the fabric covering his shoulder dampen and his tightened his grasp around Dean.

After a few more minutes, Dean silently pushed himself away from his dad's chest and tried to compose himself. "Sorry," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Dean." John gently rubbed his hand across Dean's back. "Let's just go get out of these clothes. You ok with that?"

Dean nodded and stood from the uncomfortable chairs. His knees and back popped from the movements, protesting the cramped position he had put himself in earlier. John followed suite and then guided Dean towards the nearest restroom. They both quickly slipped out of their soiled clothes and pulled on the cleaner ones.

"Dean, clean up your hands and face too son."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion before he glanced in the mirror. His face fell at the sight of dirt and blood…_Sam's blood…_

John's hand on his shoulder kept him grounded though and allowed him to finish cleaning himself. His hands shook as he brought the paper towel to his face and cleared it all away, but he managed to do it nonetheless. Before long, they were walking out of the bathroom and back to the waiting room.

John scrounged up two cups of coffee before settling into the hard plastic of the chairs once again. He pushed a cup towards Dean, who reluctantly took it and began sipping absent-mindedly on the hot liquid.

Neither could tell how much time passed, but it felt like an eternity. The sounds of the hospital echoed around them as patients and their families shuffled past. Yet neither John nor Dean paid much attention to it. Both remained completely focused on the corridor Dr. Aldridge had taken Sam down earlier. Therefore, it was no surprise that they spotted the tired doctor as soon as she stepped out of the exam room area.

The Winchesters sat up straighter as she approached them. Both instantly felt panic well up when they saw tears shining in her eyes. John stood, but kept his hand on Dean's shoulder, wanting him to remain seated in case the news was more than they could handle.

"Dr. Aldridge?"

"John…I…" The woman paused, only to compose herself back into a professional nature.

"Is…is Sammy ok?" Dean questioned, sounding more like a scared little boy than the nineteen year-old hunter he was.

She still had tears shining in her eyes, but she looked a little calmer than before. "Yeah sweetie," she said, her voice taking on a motherly tone. "He's going into surgery right now so they can clean out the infected tissue around his knee and get the branch out of his side. It doesn't look like it punctured anything vital, but he's bleeding heavily still. We didn't want to cause more harm, so the surgical consultant thought it would be best to cut it away rather than just pull it out of him." She stopped and took in the somber expression on the faces of the two men in front of her. The tears finally started to fall from her eyes. "John…I'm so sorry. This is…we shouldn't have let you take on our house like that. W-we should've just…"

"I know ma'am," John stated back, not truly able to say that it was ok when his baby was being wheeled to surgery. "It wasn't your fault. We had no way of knowing things would become that bad…" He knew the words were fairly hollow, but it was the best he could offer under the circumstances.

Dr. Aldridge only nodded her head in acknowledgement, mainly because she still felt guilty about what had happened on her family's property. She finally cleared her throat and got back to the task at hand. "Um…Sam did sustain some critical injuries, as I'm sure you could tell. But like I said, the surgery should help him with some of those. We cut away the cracked cast around his arm so we could take a new x-ray of the limb. It seems as if the bone wasn't damaged any more, but we are putting a new cast on to replace it. His shoulder seems to have scraped against something rough…whatever it was tore off some skin. It isn't too deep, but it will be quite painful until it heals."

Both Dean and John listened intensely to her every word, but she could tell it was taking a toll on them.

"The worse of the injuries were his neck, knee, and abdomen. The bruises on his neck will go away on their own, but they will create discomfort. He neck swelled some, however we do not believe it to be restricting his airway. As I mentioned earlier, the surgery is mainly to deal with the knee and abdominal injuries. Now we are very concerned about infection, especially since he knee was already so infected. We started him on some antibiotics, and we can increase the dose if we need to."

Someone yelled for the doctor from the desk.

"I'm sorry, but I will let you know once I hear more on him guys. For now, why don't you both go to our family room down the hall? I had it set up for you."

"Thank you," John muttered still in shock. But before he took off towards the offered room, he remembered he had one more question. "Excuse me, but…how the hell did you explain his injuries without tipping CPS off?"

"Oh…um…well the staff knows that I was attacked a few weeks ago at our new house. I told them you are a private investigator we had hired to take a look around and that you couldn't leave your sons alone for the night. So as far as they know, Sam got hurt by the same person who attacked me…which isn't entirely a lie a least."

"Thank you, again," John smiled sadly. He then dragged Dean towards the private waiting room. Once inside, they settled down on the softer couch, neither saying anything while they waited on news on the youngest of their family.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

_"Let me have him, Dean!"_

_ "No!" He gripped his brother tighter, trying to keep him away from the ghost._

_ "It would be better for you if you had just listened to me, but I'll have to resort to other measures I guess…"_

_ Before Dean could realize what was happening, the ghost charged at him, taking him by surprise. Sam fell from his grasp and landed in a curled lump on the ground. Dean stumbled to go towards him, but an invisible force pulled him back and stopped him. _

_ "You'll thank me later…"_

_ "NO!"_

_ The ghost tore into Sam, ripping at his flesh, snapping his bones…_

_ "STOP! Please! Stop!" Tears cascaded down Dean's face as his eyes locked on his brother's panicked and pained gaze. _

_ "Dean!" Sam's voice was strained and scared. "Help! Why…please!" _

_ "Sam!" _

_ "Sshhh…" The ghost smirked towards him. "Let me handle everything…"_

_ "Dean!"_

"Dean...son…wake up."

"NO!" Dean snapped awake and began thrashing at the arms around him.

"Woah, Dean! It's just me…it's just Dad. Calm down kiddo."

"Dad?" Dean calmed his breathing and glanced at his surroundings. After a few minutes, he realized that he was in the waiting room and not in the cemetery. "Sorry," he gulped.

"It's ok son; nothing to be sorry about." John gave Dean's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Dr. Aldridge is here to talk to us though."

"Oh…how's Sam?" Dean asked, much more awake than he had been moments before.

"He's holding his own sweetie. He made it through surgery, but we did have to go ahead and give him a blood transfusion. He was just loosing more than his body could handle."

"But, he's ok?" Dean's eyes were wide and seemed to have tears starting to build up in them again.

"I'm not going to lie or sugarcoat it. He's not out of the woods by a long shot and the surgery was more complicated than we had expected. But with some medicines and lots of rest he should be fine."

"More complicated?" John asked, starting to feel the panic build as well.

"The branch in his side penetrated into him at an angle. We couldn't tell until we got him on the table. The sharper edge of the branch nicked his spleen."

"That's bad isn't it? I mean…that's an important organ right?" Dean was starting to become more and more afraid with each new development.

"Yes and no…the organ is not vital or even necessary. It does help the immune system, but we can live without the organ. However, as of right now, we are hoping that Sam's body will heal itself so that we don't have to remove it. The branch didn't cause much damage to it, so we are hoping that with a lot of rest that Sam will be fine with that."

"Can we see him?" Dean asked shakily, prompting John to put his arm around his son's shoulders again.

"I'll take you guys up to his room. He should be out of recovery soon. I had them set up a private room in the pediatrics unit for him. All the nurses and staff on that floor now to let you both stay as long as you would like."

"Thank you," John said with the first real smile of the night gracing his tired face.

"Least I can do…now just follow me up and we'll get you boys settled in before Sam is brought upstairs."

With that, they both followed the doctor to Sam's room. They were surprised to find that it was quite pleasant, obviously meant for children but did not have the babyish feel that most pediatric ward's decorations took on. They each snagged a chair and settled in for the night, hoping to see Sam soon.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

The hand Dean's was firmly wrapped around twitched ever so slightly, bringing Dean's attention to the head of the bed. His dad lay asleep in the chair on the other side of the bed. He had finally crashed after watching Sam sleep for quite awhile. The youngest of the family had been brought in hours earlier, but had remained asleep since then. Now it seemed as if he was finally coming to.

"Sammy," Dean practically cooed at his little brother. "Ya wakin' up kiddo?"

Sam's hand twitched once again, this time gripping Dean's instead of just moving. Dean gripped back harder to show support. After a few seconds of waiting and holding his breath, Dean saw Sam's eyes flutter open.

"Hey, Sammy…'bout time you woke up."

At first, Dean thought Sam was still too out of it from the drugs and exhaustion to understand him, but he was finally rewarded with a tired smile. Sam shuffled a little on the bed, his head turning more towards Dean. Dean returned the smile and carefully reached up to run his hand through Sam's hair. His younger brother leaned into the touch before sagging back down against the pillows, clearly worn out.

"Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. His hand remained in Dean's as he gave in to the pull of sleep. Dean laid his head next to Sam, making sure not to accidentally jar any of his injuries. Relieved that his brother had finally woken up, even if it was for just a few minutes, Dean felt relaxed enough to close his own eyes as well.

From the other side of the bed, John looked on smiling at his boys. He had feigned sleep to allow them the moment they both seemed to need. He got up from the chair and crept over to the cabinet in the corner of the room. He grabbed a few blankets before walking back towards the bed. He placed an extra one over Sam, noting the small shivers going through his frame. He then slipped the other around Dean's shoulder. He ran his hand over both boys' hair before heading back to his own chair.

They all had a long way to go, but things were looking to be on the mend for now at least.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry this is a little shorter than other chapters, but I really wanted to get it up!

Chapter 5

_They all had a long way to go, but things were looking to be on the mend for now at least. _

A choked sob and soft whimpering brought the oldest Winchesters back to consciousness. They each nearly toppled out of their chairs as they took in Sam lying in the bed, obviously in distress.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, leaning towards the bed. All the sleep had been shaken off as soon as his brother's pain had filtered through his brain. "What's wrong kiddo?" Dean took Sam's hand in his, noting the tremors going through it.

"Hurts," Sam breathed out around sniffles. He was doing his best to keep the tears from falling, but his whole body felt on fire.

Dean's panicked face stared up and John, prompting him to stand from his chair. "I'll get your doctor buddy. Just hang in there for me." John ran his hand through Sam's hair before rushing out of the room.

"Gah!" Sam moaned as pain coursed through his side.

"Sshhh," Dean soothed. "I know Sammy…just hang in there a minute…ok? Dad'll be right back."

As if on cue, Dr. Aldridge and John walked into the room. The doctor set about checking on all of Sam's vitals and IVs. "Hi, Sam…I'm Dr. Aldridge and I'm gonna be taking care of you. Now, sweetie can you tell me what's wrong?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but he snapped it along with his eyes shut when fresh pain welled up in his body. A whimper ended up being the only response he could give.

"Ok, Sam…it's alright. Just let me take a look at your incision." She reached down to pull the blanket and gown aside. She then carefully pulled back the gauze covering the stitches. In doing so, she revealed hot, red skin underneath. "Aww…sweetie…" It was obvious infection had set in there as well.

Sam sucked in a shaky breath as she prodded around the stitches. Pus seeped between them, covering her gloves. Sam shook with each poke and did his best not to cry out during her examination. A couple of times he couldn't help but let his pain become vocal.

"I know…I'm so sorry. Sam, I'm going to have to disinfect this again. Then we'll get you a stronger antibiotic. Hopefully that will make you feel better in no time." She reached up and moved his sweaty bangs away from his eyes. Although he was in pain and felt awful, he was comforted some by the kindly nature of the doctor. Both Dean and John were instantly impressed by the way she treated their youngest family member.

She hit the call button, quickly instructing nurses to bring in the required instruments and medications. Before long, Sam was blitzed out on painkillers and sedatives. Once Dr. Aldridge was sure that Sam was sedated enough, she and her staff set to work. They quickly drained and cleaned the pus away from the stitches, cutting away the one that were too infected. After a few minutes of that, she redid the rest of the stitches and pulled a clean gauze pad onto the area.

"He should sleep that off for awhile," she said as she stood. "I'm sorry about that Mr. Winchester. We had been watching closely for signs and he had seemed to be doing well earlier. I'm not sure if we missed something earlier or it just snuck up on us."

John nodded his head. "Too late to really worry about that now. But I know you all are giving Sam the best care. Sometimes things happen…"

_As much as he hated it…_

"Still…I'll make sure we monitor Sam more closely from here on out. I don't want to risk anything. His body is already dealing with enough infection as it is. Now, I want to start him on a higher dosage and stronger type of antibiotic to combat that. The only thing I'm worried is that it tends to have unfortunate side effects at times."

"Like what?" Dean spoke up for the first time in a long time.

"Normally patients experience loss of appetite and an upset stomach. Given that Sam had to have abdominal surgery, I'm a little worried what this could do to him. Sometimes patients will experience nausea and actually become sick off of it. The last thing we want is Sam's abdomen to become strained because of vomiting. But I don't think we have any other option. We'll just have to keep a close eye on his once he wakes to prevent it as much as possible."

"I understand," John said somberly. Dean only nodded before looking down at his sleeping brother.

"I have to go check on a couple of my other patients, but I'll be back by on and off throughout the day. I'll make sure to have some of the nurses to come in as well."

"Thank you," John muttered.

With that, the Winchesters were left alone to wait out the illness plaguing Sam.

After sitting there for a few hours, John couldn't help but notice the haggard look on Dean's face. "Why don't you get some rest Dean? You could find a local mo-"

"I'm fine, Dad…"

"Son-"

"Am I interrupting anything?" Dr. Aldridge said as she pushed open the door.

"No," Dean quickly answered.

"I was just trying to convince Dean to go get some rest at a motel."

"You do look like you could use some sleep Dean." He sent her a glare. "But I can tell you don't want to leaver your brother…so why don't you use the doctor's lounge? There is a bigger bathroom with a shower stall you could use. And the couch is huge."

"I don't want to be too far from Sam."

"You wouldn't be sweetie. The lounge is at the end of this floor. You'd just be down the hall from him. Besides, those meds are still working for you brother. He'll probably end up sleeping 'til this evening."

"But-"

"Dean, you know Sam will be upset if he sees you've worn yourself thin."

Although he really didn't want to, he ended up nodding in agreement and following the doctor out of the room.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

"Yeah, thanks Bobby," John said into the phone. "The boys and I would really appreciate that. No, not sure yet when he'll be able to leave. Just depends on his infection at this point. But at least we aren't too far from you."

The slight rustling of bed sheets had John nearly dropping his phone. "Hey, I'm gonna have to get off here. Yeah I will. Thanks again." He hung up quickly so that he could give his injured son his full attention. "Sammy?"

"D'd?"

"Hey buddy…good to see you awake." John stood from the chair so he could lean over Sam better. He brushed his hand along Sam's still fevered forehead. "How ya feelin'?"

Sam blinked up at his dad, trying to clear away the last bit of sleep that remained. "Sore."

"Are you still hurting like earlier kiddo?"

"Not as bad…just sore."

"That's good Sam," John smiled.

Sam glanced around the room. "Where's Dean?"

"Doctor's lounge," John sighed. "He was about to drop so your doctor let him in there so he could catch up on some sleep."

"Oh, I'm sorry Dad. I should-"

"Nothing to be sorry 'bout. You're sick and hurt; we are just worried about you buddy."

"Shouldn't have to be. I-"

"Sam, is that why you didn't show us your knee?"

Sam nodded and turned his head away from his dad.

"Hey," John said gently. He carefully took Sam's chin and turned his face back towards his. "You can always come to us kiddo. We aren't going to get mad or anything."

"I know…but you've had to worry about me enough. I know you tried to give me space, but I could tell. I don't want you to have to worry about me so much."

"Sam, whether you want us to or not, Dean and I will always worry about you. That's what family does for one another."

"I know. It's just…feels like you guys have to worry about me a lot more than you should."

"Sam, don't think like that." John cupped Sam's cheek. "I worry about you so much because I care so much. Same goes for Dean. Don't think about it any other way."

Sam blinked away a few tears and leaned in closer to his dad's touch. "I'll try."

"That's my boy." John wiped away the few tears that had slipped through Sam's closed lids. "What do you say I go get your brother? How about I grab you something to eat too huh? You slept through the food cart rounds earlier."

"Yeah…I wanna see Dean. Don't think I can eat though," Sam replied with a grimace.

"What's wrong?"

"My stomach is a little upset. That's all Dad."

"Yeah, the doc said your antibiotics would do that. Let us know if it gets worse buddy. I'll go get Dean for ya."

With that, John slipped out of the room and rushed off towards Dean, not wanting to leave Sam alone for long. He easily found the doctor's lounge. Dean still lay asleep on the large couch; John really hated to wake him. But he also knew what would happen if he didn't. He crept over and gently shook his son awake. "Dean? Wake up bud."

"Wha? D'd?" Dean reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Dad? Is something wrong? Why aren't you with Sam?" Dean started to scramble up from the couch, tangling his legs in the blanket he had been using.

"Slow down, Dean!" John caught his son's arm and pushed him back towards the couch. He then untangled the blanket. "Sam just woke up and I figured you'd want me to come get you. Think he wants to see you too."

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. "Thought he'd be out of it for a while still?"

"When has Sam ever followed what a doctor said?"

"True," Dean huffed. He pushed off the couch and began to walk out of the room, eliciting a huff from John this time who was left with little choice other than to follow him.

Dean made the trek back to Sam's room in seconds. Upon entering, he saw Sam wide-awake and trying to curl in on himself as best as his injured side will allow.

"Hey…how ya doin' kid?" Dean took up his place at Sam's side once again.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said in a voice that implied he was anything but that.

"I call BS. How you really feelin'?"

"My stomach just hurts some." Dean's eyes grew wide at what those words could mean. "No, it's nothing like earlier."

The doctor's words from earlier about the side effects of the medication Sam had to be on floated back through his mind. "Oh, I'm sorry buddy."

Sam nodded, really wishing that he could curl into a ball like he so wanted to.

"Hey, stop that," Dean gently warned. "You're gonna pop stitches. You've already seen what that can do to you."

Guilt washed over Sam. "I'm so-"

"Shh," Dean mumbled. He pulled Sam's legs carefully away from his body so that he would no longer lie in the ball. Sam started to protest, but Dean easily squashed he weak attempts. "You'll thank me later bitch." When the normal reply never came, Dean began to worry more. "Dad, think you should see if the doc can give him something for it."

At the sweaty and pained look on his youngest's face, John easily agreed. "I think so too. I'll be right back."

"I'm fine Dean, really."

"Sure ya are." Dean stretched out next to his brother on the bed and pulled him towards him.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, although he appreciated the comfort having Dean near brought.

"You'll see." With that carefully put his hand on Sam's abused and aching abdomen. Although confused, Sam put his faith in his brother. Dean began to slowly rub and massage at the tight muscles, avoiding the area near the incision. It wasn't long before Sam started to relax under the touch and lean his head on Dean's shoulder. He didn't care if it made him look like a baby at this point.

"Helping?"

Dean felt Sam's head nod against his shoulder.

"Used to do this when you were little." Dean never stopped with the soothingly motion of his hand. "You would always have the worst luck with diner food. And meds always made you feel worse for some reason. This would be the only thing that would work."

"Thank you," Sam sighed with relief. He began to settle, letting his body sink further into the hospital bed. By the time that John and Dr. Aldridge returned, Sam had drifted off to sleep. Dean was still on the bed next to him and rubbing his palm across Sam's stomach, not wanting the pain to return and wake his brother from his much needed rest.

"Doesn't look like you need me," Dr. Aldridge smiled at John. Dean hadn't even noticed that they had returned.

"Guess not. Thank you though," John replied with a smile of his own.

He shouldn't have been all that surprised. As long as his boys had each other, they never seemed to really need anyone else.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The end is finally here! I figured this was the best place to end the story and wanted to get it posted for Father's Day. Hope you enjoy! Thanks again for all the support!

Chapter 6

_As long as his boys had each other, they never seemed to really need anyone else._

The streetlights shined through the water spotted windows of the Impala, casting a glow on Sam's sweat glistening face. He lay in the backseat with his injured leg stretched out across the leather. Although wrapped in fleece blankets, he still shivered. The paleness of his face practically blended into the white of the pillow he head lay against.

Dean's head kept turning towards the backseat, watching his brother. Things had been pretty scary for a while in the hospital, and he wasn't completely convinced Sam should be out. After spending nearly a week and a half hooked up to antibiotics, the doctor had declared him well enough to be released into the care of his family…with a very long list of instructions and restrictions meant to help his recovery. Yet Sam still looked and felt pretty awful.

Granted, his doctor had said that Sam could easily stand to have a few more days in the hospital, but Dr. Aldridge had also felt that Sam being somewhere familiar would do him good as well. Because of that, John and Dean had reluctantly given in to Sam's pleads to let him be released. It wasn't because he had pulled out his puppy dog eyes…not at all…

Much like Dean, John glanced in he rear view mirror to check on his baby every chance he got. Sam shifted slightly in his sleep, letting the blanket slip and expose his torso. The gauze padding around his stab wound and surgical incision puffed out his shirt on the side. Despite that, John knew Sam's shirt was hanging much looser than it should. Given that Sam's injuries and medications had left his appetite almost nil, it shouldn't have surprised John that much. Also didn't help that Sam was starting to grow taller and lankier.

Dean leaned backwards and pulled the blankets back up around Sam. His hand lingered for a second on his brother's forehead. He muttered a soft curse under his breath.

"What is it, Dean?" John asked.

"He feels warm again, and he hasn't stopped shivering."

"Damn…was worried 'bout that."

"Think we should stop for the night and get him checked out somewhere?"

"I don't know. We probably could-"

Sam groaned from the back as he stirred under Dean's hand, signaling that the older Winchesters had woken him. He brushed off Dean's hand with his uncasted arm. "What's goin' on?" he slurred, voice still thick with sleep.

"Nothin' Sammy, just go back to sleep. We'll be at Bobby's soon," Dean said.

"It's Sam…and you're lying. What's wrong?" He started to push himself up in the seat, but the glare Dean fixed him with had him lying back against the leather and pillows.

"Fine…your fever is back."

"Maybe we should take you into a clinic, kiddo," John tried to say calmly.

"I'm fine, dad…really," Sam sighed. He appreciated the worry, but it was starting to be too much and over every little thing. "The doctor said I'd still get small grade fevers while I recover. That's all it is…"

"But it could be worse," Dean interjected. "You don't do things half assed."

"Dean!"

"What? You don't…"

"Enough boys," John stated with more force. "Sam, seriously, are you sure you don't feel worse?"

"Dad, I still don't feel great, but it is no different than it has been. I'm just tired and probably need to take my meds and get lots of rest. All of which I can do on Bobby's couch." Neither his brother nor dad looked completely convinced. "Can't we just go to Bobby's and if it gets worse he can call his doctor in? The guy's clinic isn't that far from the junk yard."

"Sam-"

"Ok, Sam," John interrupted Dean's protests. "We'll go ahead and keep goin' to Bobby's. But if you start to get worse or anything, you gotta tell us. No more of this hiding crap. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Sam said, casting his eyes to the floor.

"Good," John replied. "Now get some more sleep. We'll be at Bobby's in just a few.

Sam nodded in response and burrowed back down under the fleece of the blankets. A few moments later, he was back asleep.

"Dad, do you really think this is the best idea?" Dean asked once he knew for certain Sam wouldn't hear.

"We can't baby him Dean. It will only make him want to hide more. So we have to let him come to us."

"Yeah, we know how well that works…"

"Dean…you trust your brother?"

"With my life. Just not sure I trust him with his own some days."

"Well, we have to give him the chance to show us we can. I promise, I'm not going to let him tell us he's fine when he's not. I'm keepin' an eye on him. But I also need to know that he'll come to us when he needs to."

"Fine," Dean mumbled.

John spared a glance at his son. "You're pouting?" he asked somewhat playfully.

"Am not!"

"You so are," John smiled.

"Just shut up and drive old man…"

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

The crackling of tires on the rough gravel of the junkyard forced Bobby away from his readings. He quickly set the Latin text down on the porch's table and began to climb down the steps as the Impala came to a stop in front of him.

"Hey Bobby," Dean called as he opened his door.

John nodded his greeting to Bobby as he climbed out of the driver's seat and began to move towards the back.

"Dad, I'll get him…"

"I've got him Dean. Care to grab the duffle bags from the trunk, son?"

"Sure…"

"I'll help ya, boy," Bobby said, coming up beside Dean and squeezing his shoulder. The two moved to the trunk and allowed John to gather Sam from the car.

John slowly opened the door, careful not to let Sam fall out since he was still leaning on it a little. Sam stirred, but was still asleep. John reached in and collected his son, blankets and all. The teenager felt light in his arms.

"Wh'…D'd?"

"Hey kiddo."

"Wh's goin' on?" he slurred, trying to wake up more.

"We're at Bobby's now."

Sam blinked a couple of times in an attempt to become more lucid. After a few seconds he realized he was in his dad's arms. "You don't have to carry me."

"Don't want you on that knee, son. Plus this is much quicker and you'll stay warmer. As if to prove his point, the cool night air picked up, causing Sam to huddle into John's chest. After that, he didn't put up a fight; he just let his dad carry him into the house. He stayed pressed close to John to stay warm the whole way. Although it worried John, he took comfort in the fact that Sam wasn't shying away or hiding.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled into John's shirt.

John didn't respond, only pulled his son in closer to him as he made his way into the boy's bedroom. He moved the comforter down before placing Sam in the bed furthest from the door. Sam sighed and instantly snuggled back down into its warmth. John let his hand brush across Sam's forehead, pushing his bangs back in the process.

"Feels like you still have a fever bud."

"Dad-"

Sam was cut off as Bobby and Dean walked into the room. Dean tossed his and Sam's bags on the floor before going over to Sam. "We interrupting somethin'?"

"Sam still feels warm," John answered before Sam could.

Dean was at his side, pressing his hand to Sam's face in a second.

"It's ok guys," Sam said, trying to shove Dean's hand away. "I probably just need to take my pills and get some sleep. I'll be ok." He did his best not to sound like a whiny, petulant child. "Please…"

"Fine," John sighed. He moved towards Sam's duffle and quickly dug through the clothes to find the plastic baggie with all of the medication. He returned with the correct amount of antibiotics and pain medication, as well as a bottle of water.

"Thank you," Sam said softly as he took the medicines. He looked up after swallowing to see both John and Dean's worried faces. "I'm fine, guys. I just want to crash."

"But-"

"Let the boy sleep," Bobby interrupted. "He'll holler if something feels off, won't you bud?" Sam nodded tiredly. "Besides, you'll be in the bed right there, Dean."

"I know that but-"

"Then shut your trap and get ready for bed. All that yappin' is keepin' your brother awake," Bobby chastised good-naturedly.

"Bobby-" John started.

"And you're gonna come downstairs and help me with these damn translations I need to get done." Bobby then walked over towards Sam's bed. He leaned down and checked Sam's forehead for himself before gently cupping the back of his neck. "Kid's gonna be fine. He's still gonna get little fevers. You both know that so go on." Both the older Winchesters just stared at Bobby. "Am I not speakin' English for you idgits?"

"Yes sir," both mumbled back, not quite sure what else to say. Then John leaned over Sam's bed to squeeze his shoulder and say good night. Dean rushed towards the bathroom to change out of his jeans and into sweats. Within a few seconds, only Bobby and Sam remained in the room.

"Thanks, Bobby."

"Anytime kiddo. Don't be too hard on 'em though. They're just worried 'bout ya. From what I heard, they got every right to be."

"I know, but I'm not hiding anything from them this time."

"Good to know," Bobby said with a smile. "Now get some sleep. I know you're exhausted." Bobby squeezed Sam's shoulder just as John had done before leaving the room.

Sam's eyes closed as his fatigue got the better of him. He was already sound asleep when Dean crept back inside the bedroom. He smiled at his brother's sleeping form on the bed. He had been truly terrified while Sam was in the hospital. Seeing his brother so content and peaceful, Dean walked closer to the bed. He ran his hand through Sam's hair, being careful not to wake him.

"Night, kiddo."

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

Days passed, and Sam started to feel a little better with each. He had moved from laying in bed all day to lounging around on the couch and reading through various books. It had become part of his daily routine. He'd get up, take his medicines, and then camp out on the battered piece of furniture for the rest of the day.

Which was why Dean was now panicking at the sight of a very empty couch in the middle of the afternoon. Dean managed to reason through his freak out enough to run and check the bedroom. He knew his brother's medicines still wiped him out on occasions. He rounded the corners quickly until his boot caught on the tattered hall rug. Dean went down hard.

"Son of bitch!"

"What the hell is goin' on in here?" Bobby gruff voice called into the room. Moments later he stepped into the hall and saw Dean trying to get up from the hard wood floor. "You ok boy?"

"Tripped…I'm fine…looking for Sammy. He wasn't on the couch."

"That's cause he's out back on the porch."

Dean's eyes widened and he scrambled to get up.

"Calm down, Dean." Bobby reached down and helped Dean to his feet.

"But he's still sick. He shouldn't be outside. It could-"

"Dean, it's summer…it's gotta be 'bout 80 outside." A blush blossomed across Dean's face. "Just calm down before you go out there."

"Thanks," Dean said as he took off towards the back porch. Despite Bobby's urging to calm himself, Dean rushed as the panic he had felt earlier was still just beneath the surface. He reached the back door and nearly crashed into it. He stumbled out onto the porch, startling Sam in the process.

Sam jumped to see what or who had made the crashing noise, almost falling out of the old lounge chair he was laying on. He saw Dean and quickly regained his balance using his uninjured arm.

"Dean," Sam sighed. "What the hell are you doing, man?"

"Um," Dean scratched the back of his neck as he tried to figure out an explanation that wouldn't frustrate his brother.

"Dean, I'm fine. Stop it."

"I-I wasn't coming out to check on you…I was…I wanted to-to see what new junkers Bobby had out here. That's all." Dean added a shrug at the end of his explanation.

"Whatever," Sam said, rolling his eyes. He settled back against his chair once again and looked out across the junkyard. He was tired of the mother hen routine his dad and Dean were starting to perfect. He saw a shadow move past him out of the corner of his eye. A second later he could see Dean sitting himself down in the chair beside him.

"I'm sorry."

Sam glanced over and saw the apologetic expression written on his face. "I shouldn't have snapped," Sam said dejectedly.

"Can't blame you."

"Still…"

"Look," Dean said as he leaned forward in the chair so that he was closer to his brother. "We've been worried. You were pretty sick there for awhile bud. We just want to make sure you're ok."

"I get that, but I am capable of taking care of myself some. I know I'm still sick and hurt. But still…"

"I know. Just, last time I backed off…"

"I didn't take care of myself," Sam sighed.

"No, you tried to take care of yourself. It…it was just…you got out of your element and you should've come to me."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you?" Dean hated to sound accusing when he knew his brother was tired and frustrated, but he couldn't help it. The whole thing had been bothering him almost incessantly.

Sam's eyes shifted away from Dean and focused on the ground. "I don't know…"

"Sam-"

"I guess I was…just…I just wanted to be able to handle things on my own. I mean, I couldn't even handle a couple assholes at school and I guess I couldn't even handle taking care of myself and-"

"Sammy, stop it," Dean said gently. "Is that what it was about? Those dicks?"

"Some of it…I guess. I mean, you guys already think I'm a baby half the time on hunts anyway. How am I supposed to prove I can be a good hunter if I let myself get taken out by a couple of bullies?"

"Last I checked you had a whole gang of them on your ass."

"Yeah, but-"

"Sam, you think Dad or I could've handled it if we had that many people on us at once?"

Sam stayed silent for a few beats, as if trying to figure out the answer. Dean decided to go ahead and reply for him.

"I know we couldn't. Why do you think we hunt together so much? We give each other backup. That's what family is for kiddo."

Sam sniffled and nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Just don't forget that," Dean added as he reached over and gave his brother a one armed hug. "Now, what do you say we quit with the chick flick moments for awhile?"

"Ok," Sam smiled. He felt some of the tension leave him and he relaxed back into the chair. "So did you catch that monster movie on TV last night before you crashed?"

"Yes," Dean said with a shiver. "Dude that thing was so fake; it wasn't even funny."

"Yeah," Sam laughed.

"I mean, what was with all those damn eyes? And tentacles? Why the hell did a monster living is a freaking tree need tentacles?"

"No clue."

"Me neither." Dean smiled at his brother then continued ranting about the crappiness of Hollywood monsters. Sam just sat there laughing for the first time in a long time.

John stood on the other side of the screen door watching his boys. He couldn't help but smile as he boys joked and talked so carefree. He had originally planned on joining them on the porch, but had stopped when he had heard Dean's question. He knew his boys needed the time to themselves, and he would gladly let them have what they needed.

"Everything ok?" Bobby yelled from the kitchen.

"Yeah," John called back as he turned away from the door to head back to the table where Bobby had set the mugs of coffee. He pulled back his chair and looked at Bobby with a small smile still gracing his face. "Everything is going to be just fine."


End file.
